What a difference a day makes
by Cal.J.Fielding
Summary: A introspective pice from Don's POV written in the second person. Focuses on the sibling realtionship over the years
1. Default Chapter

You're 8 when you suddenly get a brother, not that there hadn't been 9 months to prepare, but it still felt sudden to you. It's not too bad, the crying at night's not much fun, but your dad bought you that action man you'd wanted forever, and when you hold him, your little brother, you think he's kinda cool.

You're nearly 11 when he stops being cool and starts being annoying. 3 years old and doing math in his head that you can't do on paper, so he's smart, it's annoying.  
It's 2 days later when you realize it's math that your dad takes a long time to do on paper and you finally get what the big deal is. So maybe, you think, maybe Charlie does need the tutor, but you still think it's unfair that the interviews mean dad can't take you go- karting like he'd promised.

You're 14 and you just started high school. It's good, you're playing baseball, classes are going okay and the girls seem to like you.  
You don't see much of Charlie now, he's at home when you are sure, but he spends most of his time working in his room, playing with his numbers, if he's not skulking away when you catch sight of him, trying to pretend he hasn't been watching your every move.  
But this weekend had been nice, you'd let him tag along on a bike ride with your friends, and he hadn't horribly embarrassed you, had even managed to keep up, mostly. And hey, Shelly thought you were 'sweet' hanging with your little brother, so maybe he is good for something.

You're 16, you've just entered your junior year and so has your brother. Your little brother, at your school.  
He's everywhere you turn now, in the corridors, in 3 of your classes, in the gym, which is the only place you know you can do better than him.  
Shelly doesn't think it's sweet anymore, but that doesn't matter, it's not like your wanted her to go to the movies with you really. And the guys still think you're cool, you're still playing baseball and that's good even if it does mean you have to put up with Charlie spouting weird equations at you. Some crap he's done to the statistics that is supposed to help your game, make you like him more, like that's ever going to happen.  
And the tense twisting feeling in your gut every time you stand by and do nothing as some kid pushed him over, or one of your friends calls him names, or as blood drips from the cut on his, eyebrow, chin, arm, knee, from the fist he didn't dodge quite quick enough, well it doesn't mean anything really.

You're 18 and getting ready for your senior prom, your bother sat on your bed watching excitedly, math for once seemingly forgotten. It's when you finally get your bow tie on right and he announces how 'cool' you look that you realize just how much Charlie is missing out on.  
He's not coming to prom obviously, he's 10 years old, but unlike the younger brothers of your classmates he's not sat there imaging how he's going to look just this cool when its his turn, this is his prom and he's not going.  
You reach out and ruffle his hair, making him laugh and bat at your hands ineffectually with his own. And you find yourself, for maybe the first time since he joined your school, genuinely remorseful for all the times you'd wished he was normal, stupid, dead.

You're still 18 but today you graduated. Today you got that piece of paper that means you can get out of here. Go off to college where nobody knows you as that math genius's brother, where Charlie won't be following you around, because your university is on the east coast and Charlie, he's going to CalSci, just round the corner from home.Today was a good day though. Charlie looked really cute in his cap and gown, like a little kid for the first time in weeks, for the first time since prom. If he wasn't so excited about CalSci you'd think he was scared. No, you now he is scared, he's been far to quiet recently, far to into his math and the panic attacks he gets sometimes have been happening a lot. Not today though, today he was smiling, clutching tight to your hand as you went up to get your diplomas together, as your parents took photograph after photograph of the two of you.  
You're proud of him; you realized that in the last month or so. Really proud, he'll turn 11 in 3 weeks and he's already graduated high school, is on his way to college and he still thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread, still doesn't understand the fuss people make over him sometimes.  
You watched today as the press took his picture and asked him questions, watched as you felt that familiar feel of jealousy grow for just a second before you noticed that he didn't seem to like the attention either, noticed that he still hadn't let go of your hand, noticed the excitement in his eyes being replace by a growing spark of panic.  
You stepped in then, said a few words and led Charlie away, watched the panic fade into gratitude, gratitude for such a small act, something you should have been doing for years and that feeling in your stomach was back, but this time, this time you could admit what it was.


	2. Chapter Two

You're 22 and the college experience is finally over, and you're all set for Quantico, for a career you think you can make your own.  
University has been good; you've worked hard, had fun, made some great friends, put yourself out there and not been found lacking.  
You don't see your family much, sure you head back west for the holidays, but the phone calls have become pretty irregular and while you always remember to ask how Charlie is you usually don't wait for an answer.

You're 25 and you're an FBI agent, and it feels damn good to say that. You love your job, and love the fact that you're good at your job as well. The years spent plowing through that criminal sciences degree paid off, you breezed through half your classes at Quantico and the position you have in the Albuquerque office is working well.  
You're closer to home, living in New Mexico, which makes traveling back for the winter holiday less strenuous, but you've noticed that, as Charlie would put it, the distance from you to home indirectly correlates to the time between your family phone calls.  
You don't know much about what Charlie is up to. You get updates on life from your mom and dad, but somehow the descriptions of Charlie's activities never have much depth. You know he has his PhD, he got that when you were 24, you know he's still at CalSci, doing post doctorate work, maybe something about teaching. The idea of little Charlie up front in a classroom, curls bobbing as he scrawls chalk across a board, well it would suit him, you guess, except all you can think of are the rows of college kids he'd be teaching, all older than him, and really, how's that gonna work?  
But other than that you know nothing, and you're okay with that. You're two different people, living your own separate lives and what good is it going to do anyone for you to know every intricate detail of Charlie's life? It's all just numbers anyway.

You're 32 and your mom's dying. 32 and you're not sure if your little brother is going to make it through this.  
He's 24 in body, at least mid 40's in mind, and probably 12 in heart and soul, and sometimes you think he's never going to grow up. Sometimes you don't want him to, but mostly, mostly you wish he's wake up and see the world for how it is, see it without looking through the veil of numbers behind which he lives.  
He's retreated to the garage now, retreated to his math. Buried his head in numbers and unsolvable equations and minesweeper for God's sake, and your mom is dying but that doesn't seem to register.  
You've never claimed to understand what goes on in his head, how his mind works, but you've never truly worried for his sanity before. But this, to you this looks like a crisis point, a lot like the end of the line and you just know you can't lose your brother as well as your mom.  
But Charlie hasn't eaten the food you brought down for him and he ha s that manic, not quite stable look in his eyes, mumbling equations under his breath and you just want to shake him. Shake him until he focuses on the real world, until he focuses on you and whisper-speaks your name in that soft way he always did as a kid, because you've been here three weeks and you're not sure if he's even noticed your presence yet.


End file.
